General Interest > Let It Bleed
The Lyrics thread
linchpin:
Ninnghizhidda - open my eyes
Ninnghizhidda - hear my cries
Plumed serpent of the deep
Plumed serpent of the gate
I command - come before me
I command - bring the key
Rise from the depths
See the fire in my wand
Ia iak sakkakh iak sakkakth
Ia shaxul
I call forth the god pazuzu
I call forth the lord of plague
I am of the lost
Creatures of spawn of hate
Rejoice in the heaving earth
Praise the ripping sky
Rise spread disease
Consume their puny souls
Ia iak sakkakh iak sakkakth
Ia shaxul
Ia kingu ia cthulu ia azbul
Ia azabua
Ride the wings of death...
Anonymous:
This day forward to vanquish boldly
The crucifixion is now my lovely
This day forward and this way only
The crucifixion is now my lovely
I love the sound of breaking skulls
That limousine that pulls
Over the heads of all
The people that pay to see me
This day never with hesitating
Teach children to worship Satan
Warping the mind of generation
Teach children to worship Satan
The Crucifixion is now
Teach children to worship Satan
Froderik:
FKA your other post inspired me to post this. It's by Gil Scott-Heron
(this post was made by webcrawler and moved here by me)
The Revolution Will Not Be Televised
You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip,
Skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner, because the revolution will not be televised, Brother.
There will be no pictures of you and Willie May
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
or report from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be televised.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the proper occasion.
Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so damned relevant, and
women will not care if Dick finally gets down with
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.
The revolution will not be televised.
There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash, Englebert Humperdink, or the Rare Earth.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be right back after a message
bbout a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a dove in your
bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Coke.
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath.
The revolution will put you in the driver's seat.
The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised,
will not be televised, will not be televised.
The revolution will be no re-run brothers;
The revolution will be live.
Anonymous:
He looked a lot like Che Guevara, drove a diesel van
Kept his gun in quiet seclusion, such a humble man
The only survivor of the National People's Gang
Panic in Detroit, I asked for an autograph
He wanted to stay home, I wish someone would phone
Panic in Detroit
He laughed at accidental sirens that broke the evening gloom
The police had warned of repercussions
They followed none too soon
A trickle of strangers were all that were left alive
Panic in Detroit, I asked for an autograph
He wanted to stay home, I wish someone would phone
Panic in Detroit
Putting on some clothes I made my way to school
And I found my teacher crouching in his overalls
I screamed and ran to smash my favourite slot machine
And jumped the silent cars that slept at traffic lights
Having scored a trillion dollars, made a run back home
Found him slumped across the table. A gun and me alone
I ran to the window. Looked for a plane or two
Panic in Detroit. He'd left me an autograph
"Let me collect dust." I wish someone would phone
Panic in Detroit
Anonymous:
He's got the on the wall of his room
Two bottles of tequila, three cats and a broom
He's got an 18-year-old angel and she's all dressed in black
He's got 15 nickles [bindles?] of cocaine tied up in a sack
And this here's a government experiment and we're driving like Hell
To give some cowboys some Acid and to stay in motels
We're going to eat up some wide open spaces
Like it was a cruise on the Nile
Take the hands off the clock, we're going to be here a while
And I am the on the wall of the motel room
And cowboys on acid are like Egyptian cartoons
And no one ever conquered Wyoming from the left or from the right
But you can stay in motel rooms and stay up all night
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